Home Again

Everyone survived the “trial separation” this weekend. I returned home yesterday to find no disasters of any kind.


Skye steadfastly refuses to warm up to my hubby. He’s waving the white flag of surrender, declaring the relationship hopeless. He figures when the cat chooses to walk away from her food rather than have him pet her while she’s eating, he doesn’t stand a chance.

I’m not willing to throw in the towel just yet. After all, I’m not getting rid of either of them. I figure at some point, Skye will have to accept that the noisy human who is sometimes careless with his feet isn’t going anywhere and she might as well tolerate his presence. Pretending he isn’t there isn’t going to make him go away. Call me a hopeless optimist.

Speaking of hopeless optimism…

I had vowed that I was going to get some writing done this week. How is it that an almost blank appointment book can fill up so quickly? How can a short to-do list somehow blossom into a full page? And it isn’t, as my husband insists, a matter of not knowing how to say “NO.” These are things that NEED to be done. For instance, instead of spending the hour I had allotted to writing this morning, I have to run to the pharmacy to pick up Skye’s Zithromax to start treating her Bartonella’s disease. Tomorrow, I have to pick up her special order allergy food at the vet’s. Then there are things I WANT to do, like getting together with my critique buddies one morning this week and going to a Coffee and Crime breakfast with MJ Rose at Mystery Lovers Bookshop this weekend.

I need more hours in the day.

Oh, well, there is still one hour on Wednesday that I hope to keep clear for writing.

Then again, I’ll be posting over at Working Stiffs on Wednesday, so who knows…


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